One Year in My Life

Today, my roommate is pa'ing (office style) for the first time ever. I referred her for the job, so she's working with people I know and very much like. And it got me to thinking about when I was a set PA, a time about which I have very strong feelings. Mixed feelings. I want to get them down before that year of my life fades even more into nostalgia.

What was it that I hated about PA'ing? First and foremost, the military aspect, which makes me glad I didn't listen to my father and go to Annapolis for college. Even if it was free. Being a PA is about: standing at attention, ready to "fight" in an instant, to answer to your superiors in the affirmative when possible. Add to that: there's a real Sisyphean nature to the job. It takes, oh about 700 days, give or take, to be promoted to a 2nd AD in the Los Angeles. A long boring process I won't go into here. And day to day, it's the same thing over and over. You rehearse the shot, light the shot, shoot the shot, break down the shot, and do the whole thing again with another shot. You do this for at least 12 hours, then go to sleep, and come back in about 6 hours to do it all over again. You strain yourself to the limits, depleting all bodily fluids, and for what? For a crapass television show that most of your audience views as a good way to kill a half hour/hour or so each week.

The trickier part is what I truly love about set PA'ing. Those are the things that have leeched themselves to my conscious, and are now a part of who I am. I forget about the military, forget about Sisyphus, forget about meaninglessness... and am left with the people. There is a strange and wondrous breed of human that is attracted to television production. They're kind, devoted to their work family, mischievous, and genuinely happy with their jobs, no matter how long the hours, or how brutal the conditions. The people I was lucky enough to meet during my year of shall we say "boot camp" -- some of them will remain good friends of mine forever.

Then there's the language of the walkie. The 20's and 10-1's, the "go to Channel 2," the "c'mons" and "copies," the sass, the efficiency. My amazement that every single person using the walkie has mastered the etiquette, knows when to talk and when not to. Hand in hand with this is the extraordinary efficiency of a well run set. It's a joy to see over a hundred people all working toward a common goal, and doing it with ease and precision.

There's the challenge of pushing yourself to the limits, and still being able to do it all again the next day. Standing in the rain for 12 hours, then going home and taking the best shower of your life. Not sitting for 12 hours, and going to CVS on the way home to buy a desperately needed foot massager. Learning the trick of changing socks and shoes during lunch, so your feet don't cramp. Breaking in your ear mold so it fits into your ear channel with no discomfort. Finding the perfect pair of cargo pants that has the right amount of pockets in the right places, holds your belt (heavy with batteries, walkie, set bag, etc.) at the perfect place on your waist so your back won't give out. Having the right tools on you at all times: the ubiquitous flashlight, walkie batteries, spare walkie accessories, sharpie (red and black), sides, call sheet, Leatherman, chapstick (surprisingly important,) gum, 4-colored pen, hi-liter, clicker, etc. The intricacies of inputting the PR, and scrambling for scraps of time to complete it during the day, so you don't have to stay 2 hours after everyone else has left, and get only 4 hours of sleep that night.

So, I guess what I really wanted to put down in this entry: despite the fact that I would cry every night on my way home, at least towards the end of my year as a PA, at the same time, I actually and truly enjoyed myself and the job, and will never consider 2008-2009 a wasted year. But you can bet your sweet bippy -- I will never EVER do it again.